Page 93 of High Intensity

Luckily, it’s Jillian who starts laughing first, breaking the uneasy silence that follows. She’s been struggling a bit with the knowledge she’d actually gouged the man’s eye out with her keys. As justified as she was, fighting for her life, the responsibility still weighs on her. Gallows humor; if you’re in law enforcement or the military it’s an often-used coping tool to deal with some of the atrocities you encounter, but it can be off-putting for the regular public. I guess it’s working for Jillian as well.

“Talking about a solid case; has she said anything yet?” Kramer asks.

I let Jillian answer that. When it comes to anything to do with Hayley, I defer to her. She fought like a goddamn momma bear, and I have no doubt she would’ve laid down her life trying to protect that girl.

Hayley has stuck to Jillian like glue these past few days and has been staying here. Given the trauma she’d already been through, no one has had the heart to mess with the status quo, not even the social worker with CPS, who showed up here yesterday. Jillian is now listed on all the paperwork as Hayley’s foster parent.

I’m sure with time there’ll be other hoops still to jump through, given the kid’s massive wealth, but for now the main concern is to try and give her the space to process and heal. Which is why Jillian has not allowed Hayley to be questioned, and has shielded her as best she can from the investigation.

“She hasn’t,” Jillian answers. “And I know you’d like to button up your case nice and tight with whatever information she might be able to give you, but unless Hayley decides to volunteer something, you’ll have to make do without.”

As if she knew we were talking about her, I hear the spare bedroom door open down the hall. Next, a parade of dogs rushes into the kitchen, heading straight for the back door, followed closely by Hayley. She hesitates for a moment when she catches sight of Stephanie.

“Good movie?” Jillian asks her.

The girl spends a lot of time in her room, usually with at least some of the dogs, so Jillian had me move the TV she had in her bedroom to the spare room.

“Pretty good.”

Hayley speaks in a soft voice. Everything about her is very subdued, which doesn’t seem to fit the courage and spirit she’s already shown, but hopefully it’s just a matter of time before those return.

She moves past us to the door to let the dogs out, just as Stephanie gets to her feet.

“I should be heading out, but I’ll keep in touch.” Then she turns to Hayley. “If there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know. Wolff knows how to get in touch with me.”

As Jillian shows the agent to the door, Hayley moves closer to me.

“Is that your real name?”

“What, Wolff? Yeah, it’s my last name. My first name is Lucas, but only my mother and sometimes Jillian call me that.”

“Oh.” She seems to think on that for a bit before she asks, “So, what should I call you?”

I smile at her serious expression.

“You can call me whatever you like.”

“I like Lucas.”

I nod. “Then Lucas it is.”

Jillian

“Does Lucas live with you?”

From the mouths of babes…

Hayley is poking a stick at some elk tracks we found on our dog walk along the creek.

“Not officially, but I guess it must look that way,” I respond.

In fact, Lucas has stuck close to my place since Monday. Leaving for a couple of hours here and there, but always comingback. With my arm still immobilized, he’s been doing most of the cooking, grocery shopping, and has even put in a load or two of laundry. Every night I fall asleep with his strong body curved around me, something I’m grateful for when I startle awake from another nightmare.

“Where does he live then?”

“He lives in a cabin at a ranch just down the road.”

“A ranch with horses?”

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